


The Challenge

by BloodyFlammable



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Jokes, But mostly it's just me throwing my poor excuse of a sense of humor at your face, Don't want to spoil but, First Kiss, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Joke contest, Jokes, M/M, There's gonna be a, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Until it's resolved that is, You've been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 07:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10962675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyFlammable/pseuds/BloodyFlammable
Summary: When the eighth years are bored, they start telling jokes. Weasley thinks he's the funniest. Problem is, Dracoisthe funniest. So they start a Wizard's Challenge. And of course, Draco wants to win the challenge. Because he wants the whole world to know he's the funniest. Or maybe he just wants to make Potter laugh.Oh and Potter himself is the competition judge. And he's gonna be the fairest judge ever, he said so!Except maybe he won't.





	The Challenge

“The money?”

“Nope.” Weasel answered smugly. “Three Goblins are about to go down to the Vaults,” he repeated. “The first one takes the keys, the second one takes the Clankers. What does the third one take?”

“The lantern?” offered Thomas.

“Goblins have night vision,” said the Weasel.

Granger’s head jerked up, and her face broke into a smile. Weasley sent her a kiss.

How. Charming.

“Three Goblins are about to go down to the Vaults. The first one takes the keys, the second one takes the Clankers, what does the third one take?”

“The customer?”

“The cart?”

“The lead of the cart?”

Draco didn’t bother tracking who said what. Merlin, but where did they all grow up? This joke was old as the hills.

Weasley said the riddle one more time, and Draco’s ears started to bleed.

“I know! He takes flight!” Blaise – _the traitor_ – said.

“I like how your mind works,” winked Weasel, and, _Circe_ , Draco will never get used to them being friends. “But no. Come on! Three Goblins are about to go down to the Vaults, the first one takes the keys, the second one takes the Clankers, what does the third one take?”

“Nothing?” suggested a too-happy faced Potter.

Weasley shook his head. “Three Goblins are about to go down to the Vaults, first one takes the keys, second one takes the Clankers, what does the third one takes?”

As no one answered this time, Weasley started chanting his riddle _again_ , and Draco felt bound to help.

“The piss, for fuck’s sake, the piss!” Draco interrupted. “Don’t you see he’s taking the piss, you morons?”

Satisfyingly enough, the ending of the joke received very few laughs. Even Granger's horrible cat seemed annoyed.

“This joke was Dreadful,” Draco snapped.

“As if you could do better.”

“Of course I can, Weasel,” said Draco with as much boredom he could gather. “I just wouldn’t want to humiliate you,” he lied.

“The hell you would,” Weasley grumbled. “Alright Ferret, prove it.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow and looked round him. Several of their fellows eighth years had turned their heads with interest. Potter was looking at him with mischief, this insufferable smirk of his plastered on his lips.

“Are you Challenging me, Weasley?” Asked Draco in his practiced drawl.

“Yeah.” The redhead straightened like a peacock. “Yeah, I am.” He looked around him, probably seeking for his girlfriend approval.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Alright then. Challenge accepted.” He looked at their audience through his lashes, and said firmly, “Pansy will be my Second.”

Pansy automatically materialised right next to him. He rose to his feet and thanked her with a graceful _baisemain_. Malfoys knew their manners. They both turned to face the lanky redhead, shoulders squared, smirks in place.

“Well?” teased Draco.

“A Second?” Weasley blinked.

“Of course,” Draco said slowly. “Surely you’re aware of the Tradition.”

Draco was proud of his restraint. The temptation had been high, but he had a feeling that calling Weasley a blood traitor wouldn’t work well on his image.

“The trad--” Weasley let out a laugh that lacked in elegance. “You’re nuts, Malfoy. This ain’t a Duel.”

Draco waved, irritated. “You Challenged me before witnesses. We are both Wizards. There are Rules.”

Draco wouldn’t let anyone think Malfoys didn’t respect the old Traditions.

“Yeah, but,” blurted Weasley. “What for? S’not as if one of us is going to die.”

“We never know, Weasel,” Draco drawled, looking at his nails in fake interest, “if you keep on the bad jokes, I may die from boredom.”

This one received several laughs from their audience, much to Draco’s contentment.

Weasley snorted. “Whatever. In this case my Second will be…” He made a pause and seemed to evaluate his fellow Lions.

Potter was grinning like the fool. Granger didn’t look up from her book and Longbottom shook his head nervously, but Draco couldn’t resolve in watching the silent conversations Weasley was having with his friends. Potter’s unreadable eyes weren’t leaving Draco, which made him feel self-conscious and hot at once for some reason. He straightened his posture a bit.

“Seamus,” Weasley said finally.

Finnigan rose up from Thomas embrace, let out an animal-like laugh and gave Weasel a high five. Draco welcomed the distraction. Potter had the same look on his face he had had earlier in Potions, and Draco didn’t know what to do with that.

“Is that so?” He asked disdainfully. “We also need a judge.”

He let his eyes wander around the room. He needed someone willing to let him win –not that he needed to cheat, he was the funniest, after all. Maybe Smith. He could call in for that debt from second year.

“Harry will do. Right Harry?”

Potter rose in a surprisingly smooth jump and replied, “Sure, mate.”

“That’s not fair!” exclaimed Pansy, and Draco felt a wave of gratitude towards his best friend. “No way Potty will be impartial.”

Potter offered his palms to the ceiling, and smirked, “I promise to be.”

Never had Draco heard such an unfaithful promise. And he was a Slytherin. But asking for another judge would only raise suspicion. Plus, he was most definitely not afraid of losing, no matter whom their judge was. He was the funniest, and he will make Potter realise it. Potter will laugh so hard he will be ruined for another joke that wasn’t Draco’s.

“It’s okay, Pans’, we don’t need to buy the judge to win. I agree.”

Draco ignored the funny twist his stomach made when Potter flashed a stunning smile at him.

“Alright, let’s state some rules,” started Potter seriously. He seemed to cogitate for a moment before saying, “Each of you will tell a joke and I’ll reward the best one with a point. Three points for a win.”

Both Weasley and Draco nodded in acknowledgment.

“You may consult your seconds for advice, but you’ll tell the jokes yourselves,” Potter continued to Draco’s astonishment. For a fathomable reason, Potter was taking all this very seriously. Sure, Draco had a reputation to live up to, but what was Potter playing at?

“You’ll have to make me laugh,” Potter said in a peremptory voice. “But I’ll also take into consideration the reactions of your public.”

And a public there was. For someone who claimed hating the attention, Potter knew how to address a public. The room had gone silent, and everyone –aside from Patil and Brown, still snogging in the alcove- had taken place in the couches and armchairs around them, visibly waiting for the Duel to begin.

“The Winner,” Potter marked a pause, “will win the first honorific Wizarding Title of Fun.”

Draco blinked. There was no way Potter had invented such a ridiculous title off the top of his head.

To Draco’s utter disgust, Weasley started to pound his chest with his fists, raising whistles from the audience.

“Do you both agree?” asked Potter once his half-wit of a friend had stopped doing the imbecile.

Draco nodded curtly, still sceptical.

“Gentlemen. Bow.” Potter ordered, full of himself.

Pansy giggled next to Draco. Draco himself refrained from rolling his eyes (even he could tell Potter was overacting, here) and did what he was told. It was never wise to fuck with the Rules.

The curious blush on Potter’s cheeks almost made Draco miss what he said next. “I think the Duellers are supposed to shake hands with the referee now.” Potter seemed to have lost a bit his assurance.

Of course, there was no such thing as shaking hands with the judge in a Wizard's Duel and Potter was an ignorant half-breed idiot for thinking so, but before Draco could formulate a witty remark, Potter had taken his hand in a firm and calloused shake, and suddenly Draco had forgotten all about the Rules.

“Ron, you start.”

Draco tore his eyes from Potter and pulled himself together. He watched as the ginger Gryffindor whispered something and the blond nodded in answer.

Weasley took a step forward. “A Goblin walks into the Leaky Cauldron,” He says loudly, “and splash.”

The first laughs Draco could hear were coming from Finnigan and Weasley–seriously, who laughs at their own jokes–but they were quickly joined by a few others. Potter let out something like a polite snort.

“You can beat him at his own game,” whispered Pansy at Draco’s ear. And that was what true friendship was for, because he didn’t need more to know what she meant.

He took a step forward and smiled at his audience. He noticed from the corner of his eyes (because he certainly wasn’t looking) Potter bit his lips.

“A blind wizard walks into the Leaky Cauldron,” Draco made a pause, “and into a chair. And a table,” he emphasised each phrase with a quirk of his eyebrow.

This joke was rather famous, but it never stopped being funny, and this time was no exception.

Potter laughed an actual laugh this time.

“Sorry Ron, Malfoy wins this point,” he announced once the public had gone quiet.

Pansy applauded cheerfully and soon was followed by the other Snakes. Draco nodded curtly.

“Malfoy, your turn.”

“Do the cat and the cauldron,” whispered Pansy.

Draco grinned, then frowned, “What’s the punchline again?”

Whilst Pansy whispered the whole joke to Draco’s ear (making him laugh at the end – it really was a good choice!), he saw that Finnigan and Weasley had finished whispering.

“Potter,” started Draco, “What is the difference between a cat and a pewter cauldron?”

Potter seemed to think for a moment then suggested, “The cauldron doesn’t squeak if you put it on a fire?” a smile on his face.

Damn, Draco should have thought of that. It was _perfect_. “No. They’re both made from pewter. Except the cat.”

Pansy’s hysterical laugh from Potter’s joke wasn’t helping his concentration, and he knew he could have said the end better, but still, his joke didn’t deserve the blank face Potter was pulling!

Draco crossed his arms.

“A man goes to St-Mungo’s to have his eyes checked,” started Weasley. Merlin but he was putting the whole show. “After casting the spells, the Healer says ‘you should stop masturbating’, the man: Why, is it going to make me go blind?” Weasley fucking _performed_ before ending in a low voice, “I doubt it sir, but it’s making the other patients uncomfortable.”

Every fucking student in the room laughed. Even Pansy let out a sharp yelp. One wondered on whose side she was.

Potter granted the point to Weasley and Draco couldn’t help but notice his victory was received by much heated cheers. Fucking Gryffindors.

“Should I say the one with the drunken ghoul?” Draco whispered to Pansy.

“Hmm, the audience isn’t receptive.”

Even if she was flirting with disloyalty, Pansy knew a lot about jokes. Better listen to her.

“You should do the one with the cursed wand,” she spoke as she thought, “No. The baby dragon!” she said excitedly, “Do the baby dragon!”

Draco grinned–the baby dragon joke was one of his favourites–and turned to Potter.

Potter waited for Weasley and Finnigan to finish whisper-arguing and pointed them.

Weasley cleared his throat. “Two Kneazles are talking. Have you heard about the Mad Kneazle Disease? Asks the first one. Sure, what ‘bout it? Well, aren’t you afraid?” Damn the guy was good. “Why would I be? I’m a Pixie!”

Draco watched attentively the way Potter’s mouth curl into a grin. His eyes were laughing behind his glasses, and his chest was shaking, but no sound came from him.

“Hey, Potter!” said Draco as soon as the public had gone quiet. “How do you call a baby dragon with no wings and no legs?”

Potter frowned, and Draco could literally see the thinking process on his face. “I dunno.”

“You don’t call it, you accio it,” Draco stated matter-of-factly.

There was a moment of silence then suddenly Potter barked from laughter. Draco had never heard something smoother.

“Point to Malfoy.”

Of course, the heat Draco felt all over was due to the imminent victory. Winning things always had that effect on him.

“Match point for Malfoy,” announced Potter.

“I’m doing the toy broom,” Draco whispered to Pansy.

She rewarded him with her trademarked crooked smile. “Good choice.”

While Weasley and Finnigan argued silently, Pansy started whistling _Weasley is our king_. Draco joined her, because team unity had always been his strength.

After two verses, Weasel finally broke off, frowning.

Draco smirked.

“Malfoy,” Weasley addressed him before retreating. He turned to Potter hesitantly, “Can I do the joke on him?”

“Yeah, sure,” waved Potter.

Draco sighed loudly. “Go ahead.”

“So, Malfoy. I heard an interesting stat from the Ravenclaws yesterday,” he started, sporting the most insufferable smirk ever. “They said twenty percent of the boys wank daily in the common shower. Know what the other eighty percent do?”

“No, what?” Draco pretended not to be interested in the slightest.

“Yeah, I figured you were in the first group.”

Shocked, Draco blinked several times in a row. The whole audience had erupted into laughter.

Pansy whispered a mortifying innuendo in Draco’s ear, and Draco could literally feel his blood flooding his cheeks.

To Draco’s surprise, Potter didn’t laugh along with the others. He was looking at Draco.

He was looking at Draco, with the same look than earlier in Potion.

The exact same look he had every time Draco had caught him staring lately.

Slowly, purposefully, Draco smiled.

Potter started blushing.

Draco smirked and took a step forward.

“Alright, Potter.” Draco waited for the last laughs to stop and said, “What’s funnier than watching a kid ride a toy broom for the first time?”

Draco looked from his audience to the mesmerising eyes behind the round glasses and finished in a serious tone, “stopping him with a skillet.”

Potter literally exploded from laughter and Draco felt hot all over.

Draco didn’t know how the public had taken this one. His eyes didn’t left Potter and his ears couldn’t hear anything else than this clear, insolent, sexy laugh.

He had made Potter laugh. Potter found him _funny_.

“The final point goes to Malfoy,” said Potter seriously–as if he wasn’t laughing his ass off mere seconds ago. “Sorry Ron, Malfoy wins the Duel.”

The muscles of Draco’s cheeks were starting to ache, but he didn’t stop smiling. He had won. Potter had made him won!

Draco offered his hand to Weasley.

“It’s unfair!” Weasley said, ignoring Draco’s hand, “The last point was mine, nobody laughed at his joke.”

Pansy cackled without humour. “Right, because Potty wanted Draco to win, didn’t he?”

Draco frowned and dropped his hand.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” grumbled Weasel.

Why would Potter want him to win? It was absurd.

Except it wasn’t.

Potter was still blushing and hadn’t answered to Weasley’s accusations.

Draco took a step forward and gave Potter the full look: eyebrow raised and crooked smile–the exact same one he had practiced countless hours in the mirror–the one he knew made his dimple show.

Potter went from slightly pink to brightly red and it was Draco’s clue.

He closed the distance between them to only stop a few inches from Potter’s face.

He tilted his head down slightly to look Potter in his eyes.

Potter’s pupils were dilated.

“Is it true?” Draco asked in a husky voice.

“Wh-what?” Potter stammered.

His lips were full and red and a little swollen, as if he had been biting them moments ago. Their chests were almost touching.

“Did you want me to win?”

He had wanted to speak in a sexy low tone, but it had come out as high-pitched and shaky, damn it. Their noses were almost touching now.

Slowly, Potter's lips curled into the hottest smile Draco had ever seen. “Maybe.”

Their lips were almost touching.

Draco could feel Potter's breath on his lips.

And now their lips were touching.

Draco hoped Potter couldn’t feel his heart beat like a Nundu in cage. Potter was kissing him, and Draco’s ears were whistling.

No, wait. There were actual whistles coming from their audience.

“Still unfair,” Draco heard Weasley grumble.

Weasley could fuck himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments are wonderful. <3
> 
> Come and say hello on [Tumblr](https://bloodyflammable.tumblr.com/)!


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